


Two Men and a Baby

by Mizzy



Category: Leverage
Genre: Babies, Babysitting, Curses, M/M, Pre-Slash, shitbrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sterling and Eliot look after a baby on a routine surveillance job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Men and a Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sigrundora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigrundora/gifts).



> So there's a ton of my LJ Leverage fic I've forgotten to archive here, oops.
> 
> This was written for Sigrundora, for my wild-card Leverage-Bingo square. She designed the lovely banner. <3

**Two Men and a Baby**

  
  


Banner by sigrundora  


#

  


There are certain things that show up in Eliot's life that are instant symbols of just how shit the week's going to be. Like too many empty bottles on Nate's side table, or Hardison scowling at something on his laptop.

Or James Sterling standing at his front door.

Eliot's a master of certain things: violence, cooking, understanding women. He's a well-mannered Southern boy in amongst the fists and blood, and knows how to be polite.

He just can never be bothered with small talk and ceremony when it's _Sterling_.

Eliot sighs. "What do you want?"

Sterling narrows his eyes and shoves his hands in his pockets, one of his trademark moves when he's trying to be nonchalant. Not many people can manage casual nonchalance in front of Eliot. Parker, maybe, but that's only because she doesn't work the same way as the rest of the world does. "I resent the implication that I would only be here if-"

Eliot clenches one fist. Sterling's got a slightly diluted version of Nate's gift - keen observation, quick extrapolation of potential upcoming events - but it's good enough to read Eliot. Sterling swallows visibly.

"I want something," Sterling says, " _and_ you're going to give it to me."

The cockiness in Sterling's tone is definitely infuriating.

"You'd best come inside and be stupid under cover," Eliot says, eventually. "I have a neighborhood rep to maintain and you're lowering the IQ of the whole apartment block."

#

It's obvious Sterling think he has something to hold over Eliot.

Eliot tries not to think about what it might be that Sterling has on him. There are several indiscretions Sterling might have found out about - some of which might even legitimately give Eliot a reason to cause Sterling some substantial bodily harm.

Eliot would be cheerful over the thought, except he doesn't want to give any hints to Sterling. There are several things which Sterling might have discovered which would grab Eliot by the metaphorical balls (dammit), but Eliot's not going to put his foot in it and alert Sterling to anything he might _not_ have found.

"This is a nice place," Sterling says, not bothering to hide his sarcasm at the utilitarian small apartment.

"Quit the small talk," Eliot says, "just jump to the point."

"You know, sometimes I mentally think about what our conversations are going to sound like, and you're always more interesting in my head. That's a character flaw straightaway."

Eliot forcefully withholds the sigh and eye roll he wants to make. "Sterling."

"Fine. I have a job in Montenegro, round the clock surveillance, two weeks. I can't stay awake that long, more's the pity, and I need someone else I can somewhat trust who can lipread Arabic and Iranian from a distance. The pay's good. And I'd-" Sterling pauses, and then slurs the next words together like he can hardly believe he's saying them. "-I'd owe you a favor. Not your team- just you."

"So you think money and a favor is enough to make me hole up in Europe with you for two weeks?" Eliot squints, not hiding any of his disbelief. "You're even more of an idiot than I thought you were."

"Cheers."

"It's an accomplishment, really," Eliot informs him.

"Right," Sterling says.

"The door's behind you."

Sterling smiles tightly, flexes as if to go and then pauses. His smile widens into his more crocodile, _I know something you don't_ smile.

It's a very distinctive smile.

Eliot bristles. " _What_?"

"Oh, I don't know," Sterling says, "I was just thinking of going to see Nate. I think he might have my tumbler. Or maybe I have his. It's hard to keep track."

"Just hurry up and speed to whatever punchline you're going for," Eliot says, "I'm not in the mood."

"It's funny you're so popular with women with this blatant dislike of foreplay," Sterling muses, "I suppose it's your rugged good looks, can't actually be finesse or they'd be lining the block for a second go-round-"

" _Sterling_."

Sterling grins. "I suppose I might tell Nate about the freelancing you've been doing on the side."

"Nate knows I freelance," Eliot says. He keeps his fists unfolded by his side and works on keeping his breathing measured. Most people misunderstand that and think Eliot's calm.

Sadly, Sterling is wise enough to know that if Eliot's breathing is that measured, it's because his brain is calmly listing all the various ways he can kill someone with all the utensils close to hand.

"Nate knows you freelance," Sterling allows, but there's a terrible light in his eyes which always means something bad.

Eliot sighs inside. He doesn't know what Sterling's about to say - only that he probably won't like it.

The reason for Sterling's glee manifests quickly, when he primly says, "Of course, he doesn't know how much you freelance."

Eliot breaks eye contact with Sterling. Sterling, annoyingly, translates that as the acquiescence it is.

"I took the liberty of removing your European-friendly bug out bag from the airport security locker you keep at PDX," Sterling says, gesturing at the door. Eliot sighs and pulls his jacket down from its hook as Sterling unhooks Eliot's cellphone from the wall and tosses it to him. "Best text your little crew and let them know you're unavailable for a fortnight."

"I'm going to hurt you one day," Eliot says, slamming the door open and texting Nate one-handed, "soooo much that you won't be able to sit down without feeling me." He sends the message as Sterling leads the way outside.

"Kinky," Sterling calls back.

Eliot mutters incoherently as he slams his front door. His cellphone beeps to let him know the message has gone. It's one of the bland messages he sends Nate when he's off on a particularly long freelance retrieval. He's pretty sure Nate knows mostly what he's up to.

Unfortunately, that means Nate won't interpret anything as _off_ about the situation, so if Sterling messes up - something Eliot's sure is one of Sterling's talents - than Eliot will only be able to count on himself.

It won't be the first time, but Eliot's sort of been getting the hang of being in a team. Having others to rely on. It's why he's been freelancing so much - not that he'd ever tell Sterling that. Nothing good in his life has ever lasted long and Eliot needs to adjust to the idea of the team dissolving.

The idea hurts more every year, but Eliot can't walk away. He'll fight to the end.

"The car won't turn into a pumpkin at midnight, but if we miss our flight I promise I'll talk non-stop during the next one. I won't shut up. You won't be able to even block me out with your weird meditating stuff or headphones, I'm very good at being annoying, it's a talent of mine-" Sterling says, sing-song.

"All right, all right, I'm here already," Eliot growls, flinging himself into the passenger seat. He pushes the seatbelt into position, remembering Sterling's driving (not as insane as Parker, but a step crazier than Sophie) and it's only when he clicks it in that he notices what's in the back seat.

He turns back to Sterling, who's buckling himself into the driver's seat without a hint of concern on his face, like there's nothing in the backseats whatsoever.

Eliot stares at Sterling as Sterling gets ready to start driving. Eventually Sterling pauses, his hand hovering over the ignition. "I may have skipped the part where we have to babysit little Alejandro here," Sterling says. "Well, let's go!"

Eliot snaps a hand out. Sterling winces, and slowly turns to him.

"I should be a little bit more specific in future," Sterling says.

Eliot looks at the baby in the rearview mirror. Baby Alejandro has large brown eyes and a tuft of dark hair which might mean he's related to Sterling somehow (poor thing), and he is the picture of innocence - so the fact even baby Alejandro doesn't look like he trusts Sterling is heavily symbolic.

Sterling follows Eliot's gaze and admits, "I probably won't."

#

Eliot hefts Alejandro further up under his arm, ignoring the cute little giggle from the baby.

The baby _liked_ being swung around, but that doesn't negate the heap of trouble Sterling's sunk them both into.

"I can't _believe_ you," Eliot growls, thinking he _deserves_ to bitch and whine a little after the day they've had.

The flight was bad enough, with all the female flight attendants cooing over Eliot and Sterling (the matching surnames on their ID was going to cause Sterling a whole heap of trouble later) and then Alejandro pooped in his diapers six times. In five hours. Eliot's known Hardison for four years now, and even _he_ can't poop that much.

"Seriously, after our long and entangled relationship of mutual loathing, I can't believe that there's anything left that I can do that is beyond you?" Sterling says, locking the door to their hideout behind them and flicking the light switch.

At least, Eliot thinks, there are plenty of cupboards in the apartment to temporarily hide Sterling's body in.

"You could have held the baby while I was in the _middle of the fistfight caused by the goons following you._ "

"You were doing just fine." Sterling pokes around some of the cupboards and the fridge. "Ah, excellent - Darinka's stocked us right up." He turns to eyeball Eliot, who swings his rucksack (and Eliot's thinking very hard at how to get Sterling back for  _finding_ his bug out bag in the first place) onto the counter and heads for the small cot that's already set up in one corner. "And don't call him _the baby._ He has a name. He's my nephew."

"I still can't believe you have relatives," Eliot says, and lifts up baby Alejandro. Alejandro giggles, flutters those big brown eyes, and promptly soils his diaper again. Eliot makes a whistling sound through his teeth that has made grown adults replicate what the baby's just done.

Eliot grins at Sterling.

"Oh, no, I have to go get the surveillance equipment from my mate Sava," Sterling says, backing up quickly and nearly running to the door. "Be right back!"

Eliot only has time to make it halfway across the apartment before Sterling slams the door and makes a run for it. He looks back at the baby, and wrinkles his nose. "Guess it's just you and me."

Alejandro giggles. It's not exactly a sound that's perfectly reflective of Eliot's mood.

#

The woman Sterling paid to set up the room has obviously dealt with children before, because all the baby-cleaning stuff is together with a shedload of disposable diapers. Eliot cleans up Alejandro briskly, laying out the wipes and diaper like he lays out his weapons to clean and polish them.

It's sort of nice being around the baby. Not that Eliot's ever going to admit that out loud. To anyone. If he has anything to do with it, _no one_ will ever find out that this took place.

He finds himself chatting to the baby as he works. "Wow, you're a stinker. And I thought _Sterling_ was full of shit. Huh." He balls up the disposable diaper that one of the air stewardesses helped him with on-board, _Croatia Airlines_ printed in a neat pattern across it, and reaches for the new one he placed at right angles to the baby powder. "Seriously, young fella. That's a serious amount of poop. You don't wanna follow the example of your uncle Hardison. Eat properly and lots of vitamins and try and avoid E colors, especially Sunset Yellow FCF. One day your uncle Hardison's going to _turn_ into Orange Squeeze."

Alejandro nods as Eliot slides the new diaper underneath him, like he can almost understand, and Eliot - proud of himself - tapes it shut with the little sticky tabs.

"There, you're a good boy. Not like your _actual_ uncle Sterling. Who's a good boy, hmm? _Who's_ a good boy?"

And okay, so Eliot probably shouldn't have gone the dog route of talking to Alejandro.

Because Alejandro promptly soils his diaper again.

" _Seriously_?" Eliot whines.

Alejandro burps and giggles, completely unrepentant.

"Fuck my life," Eliot says.

#

When Sterling gets back with the equipment, he insists on setting it up and taking first watch.

Eliot sort of wants to complain, but along with being an ass, Sterling does pay very well. It's a pretty easy, if dull job. There's a group of maybe-terrorists, maybe-mafia in the hotel opposite them, and they have a great view of the two suites they're using.

They cut the food that Darinka set them up with in half, with Sterling swearing that if he poisoned Eliot ever, _ever_ , he understood he would be able to scoop his intestines out of his own throat, and Sterling takes the lion share of the very-dull watch with little complaint, letting Eliot mostly sleep when Alejandro slept.

Sterling mostly keeps out of his way, especially conveniently whenever Alejandro poops, and Eliot's just about thinking it's going to be the easiest six figures he's ever made - when he realizes what's really going on.

Sterling's not taking most of the grunt work on to be helpful, he's actually nervous of Alejandro. Of his own nephew.

When Eliot realizes, he's pissed. And a man of action.

#

Eliot sits down next to where Sterling's avidly watching the hotel suites through his telescopic camera lens, his own mouth moving whenever someone talks as he jots notes down. Alejandro gurgles happily. What Eliot's discovered over the last seven days is that Alejandro's an especially happy baby. _Definitely not the Sterling genes,_ Eliot thinks.

"So when's Jen getting back from her holiday?"

Sterling spares him a glance from his binoculars. He's either peeved or constipated. Eliot doesn't bother hiding his grin. Sterling hadn't told him his sister's name. Eliot's definitely going to take Hardison a bottle of Montenegrin Orange Squeeze (real sugar rather than its American corn syrup equivalent) in thanks for that tidbit.

"A week," Sterling says, noting down something on his pad. "We touch down, I hand the baby over, my uncle duties are _done_ for a lifetime."

"You don't want to hang onto him for longer? He's a cutie. All his father's DNA, I expect."

"Are you calling my sister ugly?"

"I'm calling her related to you," Eliot says.

Sterling ignores him.

"Babies know if you don't wanna spend time with them, man," Eliot says. " _My_ nephew, he's still pissed at me for knocking out Mickey Mouse with a Gideon's bible."

Sterling does turn away then for a full second to throw a look of horror in Eliot's direction. Eliot shrugs.

"My sister guilt-tripped me into a week at Disneyland," Eliot says. "Some goons caught up with me. They got creative. I improvised. Suddenly and violently and all over the place." He pats Alejandro on the head. "James - my nephew - he's still in therapy."

"Well, _thanks_ for this warm and fuzzy moment," Sterling says, gritting his teeth. "I feel like we're connected now, in a deep and meaningful way."

"Don't be a dick," Eliot says. "When it comes to family you shouldn't be a dick."

"I'm not _being_ a dick-" Sterlig hisses, a little too loud. Alejandro starts to wail unhappily at the gruff volume of it.

"See, you made him cry," Eliot says, bouncing the bundle in his arms a little. "C'mon, shitbrick, don't cry. Sterling's a mean old man to everyone."

"I am not-" Sterling starts, incensed, and then he pauses. "You can't call a baby Shitbrick."

"Sure I can, can't I, Shitbrick?"

Alejandro approves of his new name and gurgles in agreement.

#

Knowing that Sterling's now definitely avoiding as much babysitting duties as possible, Eliot plans quickly and efficiently. Shitbrick has a very distinctive schedule. Three cries for poop, one cry for food, one cry for poop, one cry for tiredness, one cry for comfort and repeat ad nauseam.

Eliot neatly takes over the surveillance after Shitbrick wakes from his nap.

Shitbrick, in timing which makes Eliot grin a little goofily, does his cry for comfort just ten minutes after Eliot hands him over.

"What," Sterling yells, after checking Shitbrick's diaper, and taking his temperature and trying to make him eat something, "Eliot, you've done your stint. I'll get the next stretch."

"Sorry. This is a pretty damn intricate conversation. We'd lose some info if we switched. You're going to have to deal with him," Eliot says, enjoying it far too much.

"But there's nothing he wants," Sterling says, sounding dumbfounded.

"You're a father," Eliot says, "figure it out."

"Olivia's mother used to deal with all this- All this _baby_ stuff. I haven't got a _clue_ -"

"Soundtrack of your _life,_ " Eliot calls back.

"Fine, _fine_ , I'm an idiotic idiot who's an idiot," Sterling says, low and desperate, "just _tell me what to do_."

"Sing to him," Eliot suggests.

Sterling stares as if Eliot's grown an extra head - and then his stare becomes accusing.

"I can't sing _and_ read lips from eight hundred feet," Eliot says.

There's a long, long pause and then this _sound_ comes out of Sterling's mouth.

Eliot doesn't tear his gaze from his subjects, but he is appallingly distracted. "Is that- are you singing _Metallica_ as a lullaby?"

Shitbrick, amazingly, quietens down.

"Kid's got taste," Sterling says, smugly. Like he knew all along.

#

The job gets done and they fly home and hand back baby Shitbrick at the appropriate time.

Jennifer Sterling eyeballs Eliot worryingly until Shitbrick throws his fat arms out towards Eliot and gurgles happily before spitting at Sterling. Then she starts bitching at Sterling and calling him _Jimmy_.

It's _delightful_.

Except it's somewhat sad to see Jen peel out of the airport carpark, Shitbrick's sad face turned their way as she drives past them.

"None of that information from those guys we shadowed will help you," Sterling says, hands in his pockets again. "You memorised it for nothing."

"We'll see," Eliot says, squinting at him. "Um."

"Spit it out, Spencer," Sterling growls.

"Are you crying?"

Sterling blinks several times, and flickers a disdainful look at Eliot. "I'm not if you aren't."

Eliot thinks about it for a moment. "I can probably take the hit to my manliness. I'm not sure you'd recover."

"Shut up and take your money," Sterling says, pushing an envelope at Eliot. Eliot takes it and pockets it, and pauses. "You can go now?"

"I know," Eliot says, "I'm waiting for _you_ to leave."

Sterling sighs. "If you mention this fortnight to _anyone_ ," he says, warningly, as he turns to leave.

"No one would believe me," Eliot says. He thinks about it for a moment more. "No one would believe you actually have a heart."

"Lies," Sterling says, but he stares off in the direction Jen travelled off with Shitbrick, and his expression is distinctively fond.

#


End file.
